The Courtship of Obi-Wan Kenobi
by Citizenjess
Summary: Ten snapshots of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Bail Organa's dovetailing lives through the years reveals recurring patterns of pleasure, pain, and everything in-between.


I wanted to write something centered on Bail's and Obi-Wan's relationship that was slightly more suggestive than the story I've penned about them in the Karen Miller universe, though not quite up to the level of crudeness of patientalien's and my Bail/Anakin/Obi-Wan three-way (available on LJ/AO3/AFF, natch). The result is as follows.

Summary: Ten snapshots of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Bail Organa's dovetailing lives through the years reveals recurring patterns of pleasure, pain, and everything in-between. Title is reminiscent of the infamous SW EU novel, The Courtship of Princess Leia, though it is meant (mostly) in jest.

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**The Courtship of Obi-Wan Kenobi**

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1.

They meet inauspiciously for the first time on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan. Obi-Wan is about nineteen or twenty then, whip-smart and deferential and unerringly polite (though Bail suspects he has a sharp tongue on him), and Bail hasn't had a whole lot of experience in his twenty-something years with abject lust, but he wants him.

Unfortunately, Obi-Wan is terribly difficult to seduce; the usual walk through the rose gardens, the strategic afternoon tea, the roaring fireplace at twilight, none of them seem to bring him any closer to his goal. "No attachment means no getting close to anyone, then?" Bail comments dejectedly after supper one night, just before Obi-Wan dutifully trots along after Qui-Gon to perform his evening meditations.

The Jedi Padawan cocks his head, his long, slim braid dancing against his shoulder. "Attachment is forbidden, yes," he considers, and then his eyes bore into Bail's, icy blue searing into warm brown. "Off-and-on carnal relations are acceptable, however," he says casually, and Bail leans over impulsively and kisses him square on the mouth.

2.

It's possible that he kicks up something of a fuss to ensure that, in fact, the services of the Jedi he's requested are fulfilled by an extremely specific Jedi; it's not usually for him to pull rank in such a fashion, but this is quite important, and so he foregoes his usual quiet grace and, taking a cue from some of his more uppity, entitled colleagues whom he holds in rather dubious esteem, proceeds to make a veritable stink.

In any case, it works, he thinks smugly, watching the slim young man make his way from the landing platform of the small ship that Bail has sent to fetch him to the gates of his expansive home. "Senator Organa, I'm delighted at the occasion to serve you again, on behalf of the Jedi Order," Obi-Wan says, bowing deeply in respect, though the mischievous glint in his eyes is unmistakable. Ever the diplomat, and also because there are a significant number of people around who would probably rather not see him take Obi-Wan right then and there, Bail nobly inclines his head.

"I, too, am eager to receive your services," he responds smoothly, and Obi-Wan just barely hides a smirk.

Privacy takes a treacherously long time to acquire, and at some point, Bail worries that his brilliant plotting (and okay, his impressive tantrum in Chancellor Valorum's office) has been for naught. Eventually, however, they are blissfully alone, his leg nestled between both of Obi-Wan's, the young man pinned deliciously against a wall in his private chambers, brown robes pooling loosely over splayed limbs. "I've done a great many things to get you here, Obi-Wan," Bail growls into the young man's neck, and Obi-Wan's laughter is a little bit breathless.

"Yes, you were very subtle," he sniggers, but it quickly turns into a gasp when Bail kisses his throat.

3.

He hears about the death of Qui-Gon Jinn from a news briefing that comes across his desk in the most commonplace way; one moment, he's admiring the impressive tenacity of Naboo's young Queen, and the next, he's frantically trying to convince the Jedi Temple to patch him through to Obi-Wan.

Unfortunately, their paths do not cross again for several months. His courtship to Breha Antilles has reached its apex, and Alderaanian tradition mandates that he returns home to make proper wedding preparations. The ceremony is suitably lavish and Breha is resplendent, of course, and for a while, it's a small reprieve from the recent drama with the Trade Federation, the long days, the increasing double-speak and petty squabbling that has consumed most of his working hours and painted it in a dull pallor.

In any case, he manages to bridge the two by squeezing Obi-Wan - Master Kenobi now, even - in for a brief visit, under the guise of needing "additional security" during an on-planet conference. That Obi-Wan will be toting his new Padawan along is a given, and Bail rushes to assure him that the boy will receive the same warm welcome as he himself.

Obi-Wan looks much the same today as he did at their last meeting, and yet, he couldn't be more changed. The braid is gone, as is the tiny Padawan ponytail; and while he carries himself with much the same poise as Bail has always seen from him, there's a sadness flecking his still-young features that wasn't there before, and which, Bail suspects, will not go away anytime soon.

"May I present my Padawan, Anakin Skywalker." Obi-Wan's hands rest lightly atop the child's shoulders. Bail greets him cordially, even reaching down to shake Anakin's tiny hand, and he can (somehow) feel Obi-Wan's mood lighten just a smidge. Anakin's presence means, of course, that they are relegated to polite, surface-level inquiries and conversations for much of this visit, but Bail is a patient man, even where Obi-Wan is concerned.

Eventually, interrupting Obi-Wan's post-evening meditation brooding appears to be the only way to get a free minute or two with him, and he takes it, damn the consequences. "Bail, I can't," he sighs, though he doesn't tug his hands away from the other man's soft grasping at them. He gestures with his chin towards the closed door leading to his Padawan's temporary sleeping quarters. "Anakin is a light sleeper. He could hear, even see something not meant for his eyes."

Bail nods respectfully, even as he draws closer, a hand going to the younger man's cheek; Obi-Wan's sad eyes flicker a little. "I have plenty of servants to keep one small boy occupied for a few minutes," he murmurs against the side of Obi-Wan's face, and oh, it's been a long time. He plants a kiss along Obi-Wan's smooth, hairless jaw, and then another. "Unless this is less about being caught out by a nosy child and more because you miss your Master?"

It's meant to be a compassionate inquiry, but Obi-Wan's face is stricken, and Bail immediately knows he has mis-stepped. "I'm sorry ..." he begins to say, but Obi-Wan has already stiffened and taken a small step away from him.

"I miss him, yes, Bail. But he has left me with a great responsibility in his wake, and I must not let anything get in the way of that. And you have a wife, now." His hands fold primly in front of his person, and Bail doesn't know what to say, so he remains silent. "Thank you for your hospitality," Obi-Wan whispers; it's a dismissal, and even though this is his home, Bail nods obediently and takes his leave.

Damn the consequences.

4.

Life moves at a glacial pace for a time. Rumors still swirl of corruption, but they are softer now, and Bail grows complacent, sedentary. At work, he grows his list of contacts, tries not to make too many overt enemies, indulges in the few true friendships that he finds there. In particular, he grows close to the now-Senator Amidala, and it's a thin line of connection to Obi-Wan, though in truth, neither of them hear of him much. Still, he throws himself into life at and around 500 Republica, in part to detach himself from the stress, emotional and otherwise, of Breha's continued fertility issues back on Alderaan, but also because he feels like it's his civic duty to help keep this Republic from crumbling. It's a passion he has had since he was very young, for helping people, for diplomacy, and now is his time to shine.

Suddenly, however, things shift anew. There's a breaking point, an altercation on the little-known planet of Geonosis, and then a schism, gaping and raw and threatening to kill everything that makes this galaxy run, however ineffectively. Worse yet, Padme is involved somehow, and he doesn't really understand why, after all this time, the Trade Federation goons would still be trying to get at her head, but they are, and he can't help but worry for her safety.

And then things go quiet again, eerily so, but it's a reprieve only before what is quite possibly the worst storm the Republic has ever weathered. Bail starts sleeping in his office, pulling double and sometimes even triple duties in whatever capacity he can to keep things running smoothly. The new Clone Army of the Republic is at once terrible and awe-inspiring in its implications, and not the least of which because its leaders quickly become the centerpiece of all the conflict.

And that's when they meet again, Obi-Wan and him; after all this time, he simply wanders into Bail's line of sight one afternoon en route to take an extended lunch, flanked by his now considerably taller apprentice, one arm encased up to the elbow in black hide - he keeps flexing the fingers as though they're slightly uncomfortable - and, perhaps even more curiously, Padme. It is she who calls out to him, and then they're within arms' length of one another, and though he resists simply pulling Obi-Wan to him for a deep hug, the other man's face (tired, a bit more worn than even after Qui-Gon's death) is beatific.

"Senator," he nods, and then his eyes slide back to the Jedi Master's now-bearded visage. "Hello again, Obi-Wan."

5.

The war takes its toll on them all, but it's particularly noticeable in Obi-Wan, Bail thinks, surveying the other man across from his private dinner table. It has been a feat on par with his half-ruse of yesteryear of plying the Senate for a personal, on-call Jedi consort to get him here, and though Obi-Wan never doesn't look exhausted, he does not plan to waste even one precious moment of tonight.

In bed, he feels Obi-Wan's soft breath mingle with his as their foreheads press together, and catalogues each new bruise and scar he finds, of which there are far too many. A faded 'V' resides somewhat left of center of the space between the Jedi's shoulder blades, and he traces it softly with his lips. "Asajj Ventress," Obi-Wan supplies as an answer to Bail' silent query, and Bail closes his eyes and gingerly runs his index finger down a puckered burn mark above the other man's bared left hip.

6.

He's just returned from a clandestine meeting of officials who, like him, feel uneasy about the yet latest vote by the Senate, via massive majority, to hand over another glut of emergency powers to Chancellor Palpatine, his head already hammering, and then the call comes. "I can take a message, of course," Sheltay Retrac, his personal assistant, offers, seeming to notice the way he already slumps in his chair.

He strongly considers it. "Who is it?" he asks, searching in the top drawer of his desk for something to alleviate this latest migraine.

"Your wife, Sir. Well, her private nurse, anyways." The young woman's face is stoic; this is an exchange they have had before.

He stops moving immediately, swallows. "Please patch her through." He's still in nominally the same spot several hours later when a rare signal on his commlink trills: The Jedi Temple. He assumes the worst and nearly does not pick up at all, but, well, best to get any more bad news over with now. "Hello?" he gets out, his throat dry.

"Bail? Are you all right?"

He leans forward in his chair, back groaning in protest. "You're alive," he says, and in his defense, Obi-Wan only half-snorts at this.

"Indeed, I am. I was calling to take you up on your request to review some of your notes on schematics from the Jabiim mission." Obi-Wan's voice is soft, his words careful and precise. "What has happened in the meantime, my friend?"

Bail closes his eyes briefly, relief and perhaps some less attractive emotions flooding his thoughts. "I would very much like to discuss both matters with you," he manages; and then, to avoid outright begging, adds, "When can you get to my apartment?"

"Soon." Something in Obi-Wan's voice tells him that he knows he's needed - for back-patting, an open ear, wordless, physical comfort - and either way, he's grateful for it, his own voice cracking on the last syllable of "thank you."

Standing abruptly makes his muscles seize a bit. His sudden movement also appears to surprise Sheltay, whose hand immediately strays to the pen she keeps tucked behind her ear. "I'm going home for the evening," he tells her briefly, and fingers the small collection of key cards in his pocket. He retrieves his speeder quickly, and lets the warm, late afternoon air of the city planet wash over him as he drives. "Soon," he murmurs as 500 Republica looms ever closer ahead, and he drives faster so as not to keep his visitor waiting long.

7.

a)

It all coalesces and then implodes so quickly. Even without Force sensitivity, he can sense the slow slide into chaos, and then suddenly the Jedi Temple is burning and Clone Troopers point their guns at him with guarded menace when he tries to intervene in the take-down of a young Padawan. The scream that rips from his throat as he watches the boy topple and lie still is the only loss of composure he suffers; he cannot afford another, he thinks, and then goes to try and contact Obi-Wan.

The last time he sees Padme, for all intents and purposes, alive, is in the Senate chamber; together, they stand shoulder to shoulder, listening to Palpatine's terrifying new decree: The birth of an Empire, the death of everything they have held sacred for so long. "So this is how democracy dies," Padme says quietly, and she looks so frail, exhaustion punctuated by heartbreak. They're all feeling that way, Bail thinks, but he truly doesn't believe it will get any worse.

He's wrong, so very wrong. Obi-Wan and Master Yoda are reluctant to speculate in front of him as to what - or who - has caused the devastation at the Temple, which to him means they know precisely what has happened. Still, he manages to be shaken by the pinpointing of Anakin Skywalker as the culprit. There isn't time to talk to Obi-Wan again after they part ways in an underground bunker beneath the Senate building; Master Yoda, too, only offers the most scant details, even as Bail's presence, as well as his knowledge of places to hide on Coruscant where the newly-anointed Emperor Palpatine won't find and immediately exterminate him, is quite sincerely his life-line at present. Eventually, however, he manages to get more out of him.

"On Mustafar, Master Kenobi is."

Bail's nose crinkles. "Mustafar? Why in the blazes would he go there?"

Yoda's wizened face shows every single one of his 900 years today. "Sent him there, I did. Darth Vader ..." At this, Yoda winces. "Anakin Skywalker," he adds, and Bail's blood runs cold, "become a very great threat, he has."

When Padme is nowhere to be found, he puts two-and-two together. "I must go there, too," he tells Yoda. "I have to help in any way that I can," he adds, even if that means simply ushering a young pregnant woman anywhere that isn't stanging Mustafar.

Yoda's face is yet pained. "No," he croaks; and then, when Bail looks as though he might stalk off and go there anyways out of sheer spite, adds, "another way for you to help, there is."

b)

Obi-Wan looks terrible; haggard, filthy, and devastated, as though someone has ripped his heart from his chest and made him watch them grind it to a pulp under their heel. Still, he is alive, and Bail does not bother to censor himself in front of Master Yoda on Polis Massa the way he did on Coruscant, embracing the shaking man now in a fierce grip like a brother. "I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan," he says, and that's when he notices the extra lightsaber; he and Anakin were never close, but he knew him well enough - from news reports, from Obi-Wan's ruefully recollections - to recognize his weapon of choice, knows now what Obi-Wan's clutching it in his palm means.

He wants to believe that the worst is over. If he believed in any deity at all, in fact, he would be bowing and scraping on his knees for reprieve, for some spot of light in all this darkness - and that's when they all learn that Padme is carrying not just one, but two of Anakin Skywalker's children. From behind the plastisteel barrier, he watches Obi-Wan watch her, watches him pet her hand and wipe her forehead. Whatever words he's saying to her are almost undoubtedly intimate, and then the wailing of a baby sounds, and then two, and he rushes to assist one of the birthing 'droids to take one of them, a little girl, and her pink face and miniscule fist are so innocent and beautiful that he only then realizes that Padme has stopped moving.

c)

Master Yoda leaves Polis Massa first for a swamp world where, Bail suspects, he will be able to properly grieve. He himself does not have the luxury of hiding, as evidenced by the six text-form messages and three voice messages that have been intercepted by Sheltay in his brief absence. The Empire still needs subjects, and, as it turns out, Bail has some bowing and scraping to do, after all.

But first: Streams of morning sunlight color Obi-Wan Kenobi's hair and beard with inklings of red and orange and brown; it's rather beautiful, but Bail suspects his friend has no use for such shallow observances at the moment. The other man fusses with the boy child ("Luke," Obi-Wan reiterated shortly after Padme had died), readying his own transport for take-off. For his part, Bail has never been to Tatooine, though he does not envy Obi-Wan's future trials there. From all he has heard, Anakin Skywalker's home planet is nearly as desolate a place as Mustafar, if inhabited with more numerous and shadier creatures. He suspects, deep down, that much of the reason for such a locale is its sentimental value, however mixed the sentiment. He also suspects that Obi-Wan would never cop to such a thing, and so he does not bring it up.

When it is at last time for Obi-Wan to leave, Bail embraces him again. His heart is heavy for all that has been lost, and yet, it is tinged bittersweet by what has been gained. As they part, Obi-Wan wisely zeroes in on just that: "Take good care of Leia," he says softly, smiling even though his eyes are yet infinitely sad. "Raise her well. Keep her safe. Our paths will cross again."

Bail's grip on his arms becomes a little bit desperate, then. "Are you sure?" he asks, his throat tight. It would be impossible to keep Obi-Wan close by, to offer him shelter right under the Empire's nose, and he knows that, but his heart still aches in anticipation of a long, uncertain future without him.

Obi-Wan's gaze turns wistful. "I would certainly like to believe it," he whispers, and then he is gone, and it hurts.

8.

Life continues. The Empire grows roots, many of its subjects hapless, too few of them seeming to care about or even fully comprehend the sacrifices that have been made, so long as they are warm and well-fed, their expense accounts snugly lined. Still, Bail plays his part, keeps his friends close and his foes closer, and takes only carefully calculated risks, some foolhardier than others, and bides his time. He does, indeed, raise Leia well, in his opinion. The child has her mother's dark eyes and her father's temper, which seems to show itself most during Breha's attempts to get her to acquiesce to this or that beauty regimen. For his part, Bail instills in her a love of debate, a passion for fairness, and, when she's old enough, respect for a nearly-extinct species of ambassadors whose presence used to symbolize to the galaxy at large the ideals of peace.

9.

The last time Bail manages to contact him is nearly two standard years before Leia's distress signal makes its way across the Dune Sea. The harsh desert environment has taken what was left of his youth, and the rare break in solitude makes him wistful for the days when he and Bail would chat amiably about everything over a bottle (or two) from the Senator's personal wine cellar. Anakin's daughter is beautiful and ready to take Bail's place in the Senate, he learns, and he offers what he can of Luke: His innate flying ability also seems to be borne of the infamous Skywalker genes, though there is a kind trustfulness to the boy that is mostly his mother's.

When the message comes to him at last, encased in the dirty, yet faithful mechanical synapses of Artoo Detoo, he knows what he must do. It is not until they are aboard the junk heap that this Han Solo fellow they've acquired proudly and loftily refers to as the Millennium Falcon, en route to Alderaan, that it happens: Fear, incredible fear, and then a brief moment of cacophony, of pain and terror so intense that he cannot help but clutch at the crate on which he's perched. His body goes rigid, his mouth opening in a silent scream, and he's suddenly sure that this is the end, ... and then there's nothing, or rather, there's the absence of everything, and something is missing, something is terribly wrong now, and that's when Han muses, "Our position is correct, except no Alderaan," and then he knows for sure.

Perhaps sensing it, too, Luke peers over at him suddenly. "You okay, Ben?" he asks.

It's not, of course, but Obi-Wan nods anyways. "Space is cold after all this time," he notes, and wraps himself tighter in his worn, brown cloak.

10.

En route to disengaging the tractor beam, Obi-Wan is struck with a sudden memory of Bail, alive and young and whole. He allows himself to mentally meander on it now, to honor the good, honest, passionate man whom the universe has just lost.

He remembers Bail's eyes as the color of the rich caf that he used to power through his busy mornings, dark and deep and smooth, though his gaze at this time was simultaneously intelligent, studious, and yet playful. "So the Jedi don't consider what we just did attachment, because we aren't accompanying it with a fancy courtship, then?"

"Correct," he had responded, and he imagines he must have looked and sounded terribly young back then, fair-eyed and squinting at the elder man with whom he had just spent the evening with his chin in the air, prim and idealistic. That was probably why a faint grin had turned up the corners of Bail's mouth at that point. "What?" he remembers asking, somewhat taken aback.

"It's nothing," Bail had responded, and he strokes the beginnings of his beard, and then suddenly, he could not seem to keep himself from full-on grinning: "At the very least, it will save me a few credits on having fresh-cut flowers delivered."

"You're teasing me," he had replied, and recalled how his face had flushed; he had never appreciated feeling embarrassed, caught off-guard.

Bail, however, had held up his hands in mock-surrender. "No, of course not, I would never tease a Jedi," he had laughed. It was eventually accompanied by Obi-Wan's own soft chuckling, and then they had risen and taken brunch together on a balcony overlooking Alderaan's incomparable natural splendor.

To think of that splendor gone, now, completely obliterated, by this moon-sized monstrosity whose very essence reeked of the Dark Side and, further in, something familiar, something that was curiously reaching out through the Force, too, seeking him, feeling him out, fills Obi-Wan with both dread and determination, with the will to do what he needs to do that day. He will do it for Bail, he thinks, for Padme and her children, for Master Yoda and Windu and all of the Jedi who died that fateful day. For Anakin. He will do it because it is his duty, his role in this particular act of history's greatest performance yet, and because in truth, he can't really say that his life has ever not been sweetened by the people he has loved, by the attachments he has held at arms' length, yet close enough to pull into a warm embrace when no one is looking. Love is his greatest flaw, and also his greatest strength, he decides, and as he successfully disables the tractor beam, he feels the familiar presence from before curl knowingly inside of his consciousness, and knows that fate has come for him, too, at last.


End file.
